


See You on the Other Side

by mylifeisloki



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, I guess Sharon is mentioned too, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watching Steve kiss someone else makes Bucky feel things he doesn't understand. It isn't until much later that he realizes there might be more going on here than he remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See You on the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, SPOILERS ahead. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

In the grand scheme of things, Bucky supposed that watching Steve kiss Peggy’s niece right there in front of him wasn’t the worst thing that he’d ever been through. He had, after all, been tortured, brainwashed, and used as little more than a weapon for something like seven decades. He’d killed a lot of people; people who didn’t deserve to die, and some that did. But it still wasn’t his call to make. He’d killed _friends_ ; people who recognized him in their last moments and probably asked themselves why it was happening. Because why would an old friend, why would Sergeant James Barnes be doing this?

The memories came back in little snippets, like a film reel that had been out in the sun. Some parts were blurry, some were missing, some were so warped that he couldn’t make heads or tails or them. During the time he’d been in hiding, he’d discovered parts of a past he hadn’t even known he’d had; parents who loved him, joining the army, Steve. Steve, Steve, Steve. There were flashes of fights, two kids playing together in the rain, Steve coughing when he got sick. He could see through his own eyes days when he’d bring home little treats with any extra money he could find. Steve’s smile was a constant reward over the years.

But he remembered other things too- not so much events, but feelings. Warmth. Love. A fierce protective instinct that he felt might control his actions just as much as those words did. He remembered hesitation, too. Reluctance. Fear. Uncertainty. Repulsion.

It wasn’t as if he had time to process which feelings were right there on the surface while they were fighting and running and captured and fighting and running, but squeezed into the little car Steve had hotwired for their escape, Bucky began to scratch the surface. He could admit, at least to himself, that Steve was an important part of his life- quite possibly the most important part. Being beside Steve, fighting alongside him… It felt like home. Steve felt like home.

For someone who couldn’t accurately remember what ‘home’ was, that feeling was something he tried to cling to. And Steve’s subtle touches were entirely foreign, but they did instill a kind of camaraderie that Bucky just hadn’t ever known- at least not after HYDRA got their hands on him. They must have been like brothers in the past, inseparable and entirely content with that. They were the kind of friends others would write about like the epic friendships in old poetry, the friends who would die for one another without thinking twice.

So, why did it hurt so much to see him kiss Sharon?

Bucky gave an approving look when Steve looked back to them, mirroring what Sam did because that was obviously the right reaction. What he was feeling was obviously _wrong_ somehow regardless of the fact that it was innate. What else was knew? He was fucked up in so many ways; this was just one more.

It wasn’t far-fetched to think that his mind might be playing games with him.

Still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it should have been him. He couldn’t remember a single embrace of that kind between them, but that didn’t mean anything. That didn’t mean that it hadn’t happened. That didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted to. Why hadn’t he? Maybe Steve didn’t want to kiss him.

The battle left him feeling even worse than he had before. He’d played his part, did what he could to simultaneously fight for his freedom and keep Steve safe; well, Steve and Sam, annoying as he was. By the time they got out of there, he was deep into questioning something he just had to voice. If Steve felt the same way, maybe there was still time to stop all of this before it got worse.

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve.”

Bucky could see Steve’s shoulders tense up and he wondered if that was because he’d been thinking the same thing or because he took offense to the idea. “What you did all those years?” He answered. “That wasn’t you. You didn’t have a choice.”

Faulty reasoning. “I know,” Bucky said quietly, dropping his gaze for the moment. He didn’t _feel_ like a psychotic mass murderer. He didn’t even feel like an assassin anymore. During this journey to find out who he really was, it was hard to imagine the guy he remembered (a guy who smiled and laughed a lot, a guy who went out dancing and charmed women without trying) actively wanting to take someone else’s life. And Bucky now… Bucky didn’t want to kill anyone, he was sure of that.

“But I did it,” he continued, looking up again.

The conversation thankfully died shortly after that, but Bucky was left to think about other things. Steve was risking everything for him- his reputation, his friends, his freedom. Would brothers do that for one another, or was this more and he just didn’t know? Maybe all those missing memories were just that; missing. Maybe he was ignoring something else that would change everything.

But what if he was wrong?

Bucky’s mind shut down completely the second he realized what was playing on that tape. He could feel his eyes filling with tears not because he’d hurt Stark, but because he’d known Howard. And he hadn’t known that back then, but he knew now. He knew Howard was a friend. Unfortunately, everything exploded shortly after that and he wasn’t given time to say much at all. He remembered them, though.

He remembered all of them.

When it was all over and Steve was helping him back out to the jet, Bucky realized that he was never going to not be a danger unless someone could fix what was in his head. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to kill the people he had, but he had killed them and based on what Zemo did to him, he was more than capable of killing again- mindlessly, at someone else’s command. What if they told him to kill Steve next time? What if he _succeeded_ where he’d failed in DC?

A chance came in the form of T’Challa, who boarded the jet and spoke to him while Steve flew them away from Siberia and hopefully towards a new start. The new king of Wakanda wanted to give him hope and a chance to live a normal life once they could get the programming out of his head. They agreed, and Bucky told Steve to turn the jet towards Wakanda.

T’Challa’s kingdom was beautiful in every sense of the word. It was sleek and modern, incredibly technologically advanced, but also gleaming against a backdrop of lush, green rainforest. Bucky felt as though it was a good place to rest, and he trusted T’Challa if only because he had _stopped_ the onslaught when he learned of Bucky’s innocence. He was a good man and if Steve approved, then Bucky approved too.

They were given separate rooms within the palace that night. Bucky’s arm was seen to, and they fitted a little sleeve over the end so he wasn’t in any danger from all the wires that had been ripped apart. He was sure that Steve was meeting with T’Challa to talk about the plan for Bucky to stay there, but he made no effort to join. For now, for tonight… he just wanted to _be_ , just for a little while. As the sun faded, he positioned himself on the balcony and just stared out over the city. This would never be his life, but it was nice to dream for a while. It was nice to have a fantasy.

The sun had set by the time Bucky heard his door slide open and went completely still by instinct so he could figure out who was trying to sneak up on him. The steps weren’t quiet, though, and he recognized the confident (if slightly defeated) strut of his--- What was Steve exactly? His friend?

“If you’re trying to sneak up on me, you’re doing a piss poor job.”

The steps faltered a little, but Steve did eventually join him on the balcony and take a seat in the unoccupied chair beside him. “I wasn’t trying real hard,” he answered with a sigh. Bucky kept his eyes on the view, Steve’s eyes wandered to the other man.

“Everything’s ready for tomorrow?”

Pause. “Yeah. Everything’s ready.”

There was silence for such a long period that Bucky broke his focus to turn and look at Steve instead. “There’s something you’re not saying,” he pointed out. “Just say it.”

Steve ducked his head a little and Bucky felt his lips twitch up into a smile because that move was _familiar_. But Steve’s answer made him frown again. “It’s nothing. Just—gonna miss you, that’s all.”

…Oh. Well, that made Bucky want to forget this whole thing, but he knew it was for the best. He was a real danger to everyone _including_ Steve, and he couldn’t live with himself if he hurt anyone else. “It’s not forever,” he tried. “T’Challa is gonna figure it out and then I can wake up again.”

Steve smiled and nodded in what was supposed to look like agreement, but the way his smile faded a moment later kind of left Bucky feeling empty- and he knew what that felt like for sure. It wasn’t a good feeling. “Do you remember when I dragged you to Coney Island for your birthday? For the fireworks?” He smiled to himself again, turning his gaze away from Steve. “And you got into a fight on the beach. Guy nearly took your head off before I got back.”

“Yeah, I remember. You went to get hot dogs and that guy opened his mouth… Couldn’t let it slide.”

More silence. “What did he say to you?”

Steve shifted and it was a distinctly uncomfortable move. “Same things they always said,” he mumbled. “You know. I didn’t like his attitude.”

There was something else. Bucky turned his head and stared at Steve. “You’re lying.”

“What? No! No, I’m not. He was being a dick, I opened my mouth, got my ass handed to me as usual—“

“Steve.”

More silence. Bucky was beginning to think that their whole relationship now would be defined not by what they experienced together or what they said to each other, but by silences and the words that were supposed to fill them.

“He called me a fag,” Steve admitted, shrugging to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.

Bucky learned something from that statement; two things, actually. First, it was obviously something that hit Steve on a personal level and therefore, he either took offense to the very idea of it or got defensive because he _was_ homosexual. And second, there was no way they had been in any kind of relationship back then. If they had, if that was the kind of thing that was on the table, Steve wouldn’t have been so secretive about it. He was probably scared of what Bucky would say.

“Deserved the beat down I gave him, then,” he answered belatedly. “Asshole.”

It was uncomfortable now. There were still things left unsaid and Bucky was having trouble imagining going back under without knowing the truth about who he was coming back to when he woke up.

“Steve,” he said again, his one hand gripping the arm of the chair a little too hard. “ _Were_ we?”

Steve blinked and turned towards him. “Were we what?”

“Fags.”

It was an unkind word, a slur. Bucky knew that, but he felt like it would be easier to ask his question in those terms was easier than asking whether or not they’d been in love. Lovers. Partners? Maybe he just didn’t want to hear Steve say that they weren’t; that they loved each other, but not quite _that way_.

“We never slept together, if that’s what you’re asking.”

It wasn’t. “I remember sleeping together,” he said after a moment. “In the same bed.”

Steve’s hands clenched and unclenched, then rubbed over his thighs for a moment. Bucky recognized it as a nervous habit, but he wasn’t sure if that was because he was uncomfortable with the topic or the reminder or—or what.

“When it got cold, we’d share a bed sometimes so we could stay warm,” he explained.

Oh. So that was what Bucky remembered, the cold nights with Steve in his arms. But that didn’t allow him to shake the feeling that there had been more. “So, we never—“

“No.”

Awkward. This was painfully awkward. Bucky didn’t even know why, but it felt like at one time he’d harbored feelings for Steve that were definitely not the kind of brotherly love he might have expected. Then again, maybe that was why he’d never said anything. Maybe he knew Steve didn’t feel the same.

On the other hand, he could easily recall the tone in Steve’s voice before they got off the jet in Siberia. He didn’t just remember that day when Bucky had tried to win a stuffed animal for that girl- he remembered details. He remembered her name. He was _jealous_. Because Bucky could remember taking girls out to dance and kissing them, flirting with them… He could even remember bringing Steve with him on a double date. But he couldn’t once remember Steve kissing any of them.

That is, until Sharon. Maybe he just needed a kick in the pants to make him realize that he wanted Steve for himself. He wanted Steve to kiss _him_ like that. But if Steve wanted to, why hadn’t he ever done it?

The whole thing was making his head pound in the worst way and before he knew it, he was on his feet and approaching the railing of his balcony, his hand resting on top as he blankly stared out over the city.

“Buck?”

Steve’s voice snapped him out of it, but Bucky didn’t dare turn.

“You alright?”

He might not be ‘alright’ ever again. Obviously he didn’t answer quick enough, so Steve got up and moved to stand beside him. There was concern laced into his silence and the way his shoulders tightened- Bucky didn’t even have to look to know that. Steve’s presence there was supposed to be a show of solidarity, but Bucky wanted answers. For not the first time in his life, he wanted the truth.

Turning to face the other man, Bucky just stared at him. He knew his eyes were intense and focused, his brow perhaps furrowed a little bit. His jaw was clenched and his lips pursed in thought, but Steve didn’t flinch away. In fact, Steve just offered him the same little smile as before- the smile that faded into something quiet and sad within moments.

Bucky just wanted to make that smile stay happy. All of a sudden, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered and maybe that was just because nothing else in the world _did_ matter. He was broken- a broken soldier left to pick up the pieces of a life he no longer had. Politics didn’t matter, what he might be missing out on when he went under didn’t matter. Steve mattered. And Bucky was going to find out just how much.

Right there on the balcony, Bucky decided to take this into his own hands and grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt, tugging him closer and slotting their lips together. It was sloppy and uneven at first, but Bucky closed his eyes and slid that one hand around to the back of Steve’s head to hold him there as it deepened. Bucky _welcomed_ Steve’s impossibly warm hands on his waist, where they held him like he never wanted to let go again. By the time their lips parted, Bucky could feel his lungs burning with the lack of oxygen and he slowly released Steve so he could step back, immediately on the defensive. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just uncertainty that was making his heart pound, but fear. Trepidation.

It felt like an age before he had a proper reaction.

Steve stepped closer and Bucky forced himself to remain in place as the other man raised his hand—and let it fall gently against his cheek. Surprised, Bucky lifted his gaze to meet Steve’s and immediately smirked a little. “I thought you said we didn’t—“

“Because we didn’t,” Steve insisted. “Not once.”

Bucky quickly wondered in the back of his mind whether or not Steve would be bothered by his lack of an arm, but that thought was squashed the second he was tugged forward again. This time, it was all Steve and even as Bucky’s back was shoved none too gently against the outer wall, he could hardly comprehend what was happening. Love was a foreign concept. Desire wasn’t, but to have that kind of desire focused on him instead of outward was entirely new.

When they parted again, Bucky nearly chased Steve’s lips and looked downright huffy when he couldn’t.

“Come on,” Steve said, taking his one hand and guiding him back into the bedroom. Together, they sat down on the bed and Bucky was pleased to find out that he’d be given more kisses than what they’d shared on the balcony. Steve’s lips met his and it was so very easy for them to fall back to the soft mattress--- God, why was the mattress so goddamn soft?

Ignoring that, Bucky tried to focus on the way Steve was slowly coaxing his lips apart and delving between them, one hand resting on the curve of his waist either to keep him close or pull him closer.

Still, when they rolled over so Bucky was on top of Steve and their hips had been lazily rocking against each other for some time, he realized he just… couldn’t. “Wait,” he said quickly, mumbling the word against Steve’s flushed, swollen lips. “Wait.”

Steve stopped in his tracks and they stared at each other for an uncomfortable few moments before Bucky made himself speak again. “I can’t,” he said somewhat hesitantly. “Not like this.” Not when it was rushed and sudden and probably came about because they wouldn’t have a chance to try again tomorrow.

Instead of the judgment he’d feared, Steve just smiled and moved back a fraction of an inch to put a little space between them. “That’s okay,” he said easily. “But—“ He looked off to the side and Bucky slammed his guard up again. “I was hoping you’d let me stay the night anyway,” he continued. “Like old times.”

Bucky blinked and opened his mouth to reply, but nothing suitable came to mind. He shut his mouth and furrowed his brow a little bit, then opened up again to try a second time. It was just so strange to him, knowing that Steve wanted him the way he was- broken and beaten and robbed of anything resembling normalcy. Steve didn’t even want him for his body or the convenience or the physical pleasure.

Steve just wanted him, in any way he could have him.

All of a sudden, the fact that they’d never done this before made all the sense in the world. It was frowned upon, they must have both been scared of rejection or worse, the kind of persecution that would put their lives in danger, and scared of losing one another. Steve loved him unconditionally. Steve must have spent their time together telling himself that the friendship was enough because as long as they were in each other’s lives, it was alright that they couldn’t kiss or touch the way he wanted to. The way _they_ wanted to. Because Bucky was quickly coming to the conclusion that he felt exactly the same way. He didn’t know Steve, but he knew him better than he knew anyone. The memories he had of Steve were crystal clear while even the memories of his parents and other friends were blurred.

Steve meant everything to him and for one reason or another, listening to Steve say that he wanted to stay the night just because he looked like he couldn’t bear to be apart for any longer… It was a shock.

And after all he’d done. Bucky believed what he said- that he wasn’t worth what Steve had given up to protect him. He was a murderer no matter what the reason behind it was and regardless of his innocence in regards to that bombing. Steve should be putting him in a cell and there he was waiting for permission to share a bed because he knew that Bucky was going under again tomorrow.

Bucky felt strange realizing it, but it was so clear. Steve didn’t want to lose him again.

Steve didn’t want to go another second without him, but he _would_. He would because that was what Bucky had decided to do. And now… Now that he’d tasted what it was to really be loved without restraint or hesitation or limits, he was almost having second thoughts. He knew he had to do this because he was still a huge danger to himself, to others, and to Steve… but leaving was going to be hard. Doing this for the greater good or whatever shit he wanted to say it was for was going to be _hard_.

“Buck?”

Steve’s voice was like an anchor that grounded him and Bucky’s gaze flashed up to meet the other man’s eyes once again. He cleared his throat. “You can stay,” he said gruffly. Then, because he thought it sounded awful and impersonal and rough—“Please, stay.”

Steve looked so touched. He looked so _happy_ that Bucky had agreed and honestly, that alone was reason enough to do this. Tired as they were, it was easy to crawl under the covers together and lay facing one another for quite some time. Steve kept touching his cheek or his waist, but it remained innocent and sweet; something that Bucky appreciated immensely.

“I love you.”

The words spilled out just as Bucky was slowly drawing himself closer to the warmth that Steve was emitting and he honestly didn’t know what to do with them. Love? He knew the love was there and he knew he felt it in return, but the words still stalled in his throat.

He must have had some look on his face because Steve just smiled and shook his head a little. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

Before. The word was left unsaid, but that was what Steve meant. He wanted Bucky to know before he went under again because who knows what could happen in that time. Steve might not even--- No. Steve would be fine. Period. No way was Bucky going to lose Steve when he’d just managed to find him again.

Bucky nodded a little and shuffled forward, but when he went to throw his arm around Steve’s waist, he came up almost hilariously empty. Wait. Wait, he couldn’t hold Steve anymore. He physically couldn’t do it and this crestfallen look ghosted over his face as he frowned and tried to figure out how—how—

“I think it’s my turn,” Steve interrupted, sliding his arm over Bucky’s waist to pull him close. “You took care of me all those years, Buck. It’s my turn to take care of you now.”

Again, Bucky found himself close to alarmed by the whole idea. Steve was like this big, golden beacon of GOOD and maybe he didn’t deserve this. Maybe Bucky didn’t deserve this kind of love and understanding, maybe Steve didn’t deserve to be saddled with a burden like Bucky. But at the moment, Bucky wasn’t going to question it. They had this one night together and then it was all over again.

With that in mind, Bucky ducked his head and let his forehead rest against Steve’s shoulder. It felt like nothing he could remember, just being that close to him again. It felt like he was coming home.

All of a sudden, Bucky was hit by memories of being taken captive before Steve joined the war. He remembered being singled out and taken away for experiments. He remembered… telling himself that he would stay strong because if he didn’t make it, who was going to take care of Steve?

Stupid, big-hearted Steve who’d let someone experiment on him and came charging into war like he was personally going to end Hitler’s reign. Steve, who rescued him. Steve, who didn’t need him anymore.

Bucky shifted with some difficulty and eventually managed to get his good arm wedged under Steve so he could carefully grip the shirt the other man was wearing. Steve still loved him, big or small. Steve still loved him even though his hands were dripping the blood of so many innocent lives. Steve still loved him even though he was making the choice to go away again. Steve respected him. Steve listened.

Steve was going to let him do this because he knew it was what Bucky chose, even though it probably hurt him. Steve was selfless…. Steve was selfless until this incident. Steve was selfless until Bucky’s life was at stake, and then nothing else mattered. Steve _loved_ him.

“Why did you kiss her?”

Silence. Steve’s heart rate picked up and Bucky tried not to notice. “Who?”

Bucky let out an indignant huff because Steve knew exactly who he was talking about. “Sharon.”

It was a good thing Bucky wasn’t trying to figure out if Steve was lying about something important because his pulse would have been a dead giveaway. “I…” He sighed, shifting a little. “I don’t know.”

“Do you love her?”

“What? No.”

“Don’t give me that. You kissed her and you kissed me. What’s the difference?”

Of course, Bucky knew that there was a difference, but he wanted to hear it from Steve’s perspective. He needed to understand and he had very limited time to do so. Steve wasn’t quick to answer, but his pulse did slow a little bit. “I kissed her because… it felt right,” he said slowly. “She helped us and it’s not like we haven’t been talking, but she’s—“

“Not me?” The teasing tone surprised Bucky himself, but he didn’t outwardly react to it.

“Yeah,” Steve answered with a soft laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’ve got that right. She’s not you.”

“What about Peggy?”

The laughter went away immediately and Bucky was sorry for it, so he frowned and tucked himself a little closer to Steve. He knew she’d just passed- Sam told him at some point. “Peggy would have wanted me to be happy,” he said quietly, murmuring the words right into Bucky’s hair. “I loved her so much, Buck. But at the same time, I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

“I love you too.” The words were soft and muffled, especially since Bucky had managed to press their bodies flat against one another and hide his face in Steve’s neck. He honestly wasn’t sure if now was the right time to say it or not, but he’d spoken without giving himself time to think.

Steve’s hold on him got a little tighter and while Bucky might have assumed that he’d feel like he was suffocating, he felt nothing of the sort. “I don’t know what it means,” he added. “I know that I love you and I know that you’re important to me, but I don’t—I’m not—“

Steve lightly rubbed up and down his back in an attempt to be soothing. “I’m not fixed yet.”

The rubbing stopped and Steve seemed to tense a little. “Listen to me,” he said firmly. His voice sounded pained, like he hated that he even had to say words like this. “You’re not doing what you’re doing tomorrow for me. You’re doing it— _We’re_ doing it for you. So you can live the life you deserve. Don’t ever think that you’re worth less because of what they did to you.”

Those words? They hit home. “What about because of what I did to other people? To—friends.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

“I know, but I _remember_. Shit, I remember, Steve. I can still see every single _life_ I took—“

His voice broke on the last word and Bucky came to realize that he was crying. It felt strange to be letting this happen in front of Steve, but he tucked his face away and let the tears come; hot and wet and slipping down his cheeks no matter how much he wanted them to stop. Steve held him all the way through, not saying a single word. Bucky was grateful for that, at least. He didn’t need to hear anything to know that Steve was there for him- and he didn’t need to hear meaningless platitudes either, or listen to Steve telling him it would be alright. It might not be alright; there was no getting around that.

When his eyes were burning and his throat was raw and scratchy, Bucky calmed and lifted his head to meet Steve’s gaze. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite do it and wound up staring at the soldier’s lips instead. Well, it wasn’t entirely unfortunate.

“Kiss me again.”

Steve complied immediately, neatly slotting their lips together and lingering there a long time.

After that, they fit together and Bucky could hear Steve’s breathing even out along with his pulse. He was falling asleep and who could blame him? They’d had a very bad week. By the time Steve passed out for good, Bucky was about ready to follow him. Before he let go and tried to sleep, he lifted his head so he could just watch for a few moments.

Steve looked peaceful. He looked like he’d found everything he was looking for, like he was _content_.

It was insane. Bucky honestly wanted to wake him up and tell him that he was fucking insane to feel this way about having some brainwashed, broken assassin beside him. He’d given up his friends, his new family, his freedom, his shield! How could he ever be content like this?

“...Buck…”

It was quiet, nothing more than a subconscious murmur that passed barely parted lips.

Bucky stared for a moment before slowly getting right back into position, his nose buried in Steve’s neck, his chest pressed as tightly to the soldier’s as he could manage. For the first time in… what felt like the full seventy years since he’d fallen, Bucky actually slept.

He didn’t wake once the whole night, only sleepily opening his eyes to the sun peeking in through the windows and Steve’s big, blue eyes softening the second they met his own. Wow. Now that was a good way to start the day. “G’morning,” he mumbled, rolling onto his back so he could rub his eyes with his one and only hand. “Are you always this—fucking pretty in the morning, or is that just for me?”

Steve laughed and it was like music to his ears. He quickly flipped over again and pressed their lips together- and what a kiss it was. Steve was smiling against his lips and Bucky couldn’t help smiling in return. Even when they parted, Bucky couldn’t seem to stop. Steve’s joy, Steve’s happiness, Steve’s smile… He was infectious as a person, like Bucky couldn’t possibly be sad if he was standing in Steve’s glow.

Breakfast was small and quiet. Despite the royal setting, they’d requested to have dinner in their room and spent most of the time reminiscing. It hurt, but in a good way. Bucky liked to think that he’d have something to dream about while he was in cryo.

Unfortunately, the time came faster than either of them had anticipated. Bucky dressed in a pair of thin white pants for the occasion, along with a matching tank top and a little sleeve for the stump that used to be his arm. Steve was dressed in darker colors and he wondered if that had something to do with how little Steve wanted this to happen. Bucky was ready. This time, it was his _choice_.

They shared another deep kiss in his room before they headed out to meet T’Challa and Bucky just barely resisted taking Steve’s hand even as they walked through the palace on their own. When they arrived, he hopped up onto the table and sat still so his vitals could be checked and everything could be prepared.

“Are you sure about this?”

Steve’s question didn’t catch him off guard at all. On the contrary, Bucky expected it.

“This is better for everyone,” he said confidently. “I can’t trust my own mind.”

Bucky offered Steve a little smile and it wasn’t entirely sad. Why? Because there was hope this time. This time, he might come out of this with a _cure_ for what HYDRA had done to him. He might be able to live his life the way he wanted to. And now, he might be able to keep Steve safe because no one would be able to fuck with his head the way Zemo had. Wasn’t that the most important thing?

He wanted to protect people. It was in his blood.

Before it really happened, T’Challa glanced between them and moved to stand at the window, his back turned. Bucky stood up right away, getting into Steve’s personal space unapologetically. “It’s not forever,” he said quietly. “Try not to do anything stupid until I’m back.”

Steve didn’t even answer. He enveloped Bucky in such a strong hug that the other man was thrown completely off course for a second there. When he recovered, he returned the embrace with his one arm, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder where it belonged.

They didn’t come apart until T’Challa cleared his throat. “We’re all ready now,” he said, gesturing for Bucky to get into the cryo tube.

He was doing this for a good reason and reminded himself of that as he moved to do as he was told, belatedly giving Steve a warm smile once he was inside. At peace with his decision, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes as the container sealed and the cold began. Steve would be waiting for him this time. Steve had _always_ been waiting for him; they just hadn’t known it before.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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